Lord Cat
by aellisif
Summary: Usually Takeru isn't one for revenge. But there are some things he simply cannot let go so easily. Relates to Episode 27, The Switched Lives.
1. Aftereffects

The first chapter in a story completely made up by little snippets of life as it might happen at the Shiba mansion. Each chapter will be preceeded by a short introduction to properly locate it in the series' context, so please take note of those.

As for the first chapter, Takeru isn't a person for revenge. His whole upbringing, his training, his morals will not permit him to take revenge for transgressions against himself. However, today Chiaki went too far. Whatever Chiaki may think, and whatever that Ayakashi did to him, Takeru is not a cat, and he is also not going to let Chiaki get away with abusing Takeru's inability to defend himself in order to make fun of him. (Set after Episode 27, The Switched Lives)

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1: Aftereffects_**

So this was how it was going to be? Well, two could play at this game, and Takeru was determined not to lose.

Quietly he crept from his room and to the door next to his. Chiaki's door. All lights were out.

Takeru took a moment to breathe in and out, then put his hand to the handle. As noiselessly as he could he slid the door out of the way, sneaking into the mostly-dark room. The latern outside in the garden gave off just enough light for the outlines of Chiaki's body to be visible under the covers.

He was fast asleep.

Good.

Now, where was his Shodophone?

Squinting into the darkness, Takeru tried to locate the item in question, noticing with some surprise that the room was much neater than he had expected it to be. He shook his head, shaking the thought off at the same time. Without a doubt thanks to the kuroko. Chiaki would never be able to keep a room—any room—this neat and clean.

Takeru silently decided on giving the kuroko something nice—maybe an extra day off?—in thanks. This was going to make finding Chiaki's Shodophone much easier.

Where to start looking …

The shelves along the wall seemed as good a place as any. Takeru snuck past the sleeping form on the floor, keeping an eye on him the whole time until he had made it to the shelves.

So …

A bokken. What was that doing in here? On the other hand, that explained why they had been missing one lately. Not that that was an issue in itself. They had plenty. But Takeru knew this one, and it happened to be one of his favourites, which was also the reason he had noted its absence.

He made a mental note to "suggest" that the unnamed person who had taken it return it as soon as possible.

Next. A calligraphy set. Quite a nice one as well. Takeru's brow wrinkled. Where had Chiaki gotten this one from? Also, quite a few sheets scrawled with characters and notes. It was too dark to read was was written down on them. But Takeru nodded with satisfaction. They were getting somewhere.

No Shodophone so far, though.

Takeru turned to the next shelf and blinked in astonishment.

Books.

Takeru cast the sleeping Chiaki a surprised glance. He had never seen Chiaki with a book except on the occasions Takeru or Jii had made him read one (although, admittedly, the historical accounts of the Shiba family could not be considered books in the very sense of the word). What kinds of books would Chiaki keep in his room that he actually wanted to read?

Takeru craned his neck and realised to his annoyance that the room was indeed too dark to discern anything except the fact that the items were, in fact, books. Not exactly just a few of them either. A rough count revealed about ten books. True, the Shiba library held at least two thousand books (Takeru had never counted, and also suspected that Jii had made sure to, err, take some books into custody before Takeru reached a certain age). Still. For someone like Chiaki …

But no Shodophone.

Sighing, Takeru turned and moved over to the cupboard, passing Chiaki on his way. He was huddled under his blanket, face just barely discernible. His hair was sticking out at all angles, and his breath was even. Takeru found himself staring at the tip of Chiaki's nose. Unbidden, the rememberance of Chiaki poking Takeru's nose a few hours earlier came to his mind. It had looked like he and Kotoha had enjoyed themselves, despite circumstances.

Cupboard. Takeru was not here to wake Chiaki, he was here to reclaim his authority by getting rid of today's proof of Takeru's inability to defend himself. That was not childish. There was a difference between Takeru stating that he did not want retainers, and Chiaki refusing to act like a proper retainer.

The difference being that Takeru … Takeru …

Cupboard. Takeru carefully extended a hand and held his breath until the doors were opened.

Clothes, clothes, clothes. Everything looked orderly and neat. Takeru spared a moment to glare at the unsuspecting Chiaki before he turned back to the cupboard and started sifting through T-Shirts, pants and the occasional jacket.

The whole stupid cupboard smelt of Chiaki.

Takeru pulled out his head and took a deep breath to calm himself. His own cupboard smelt just the same, for God's sake! The kuroko used the exact same detergent for everyone!

There was a little sigh behind him and Takeru stiffened. Rustling followed and he cast a glance over his shoulder. Chiaki had turned around on his futon, causing the blanket to slip off his face so Takeru had a good view of it.

He looked a lot younger when asleep. And not as … wilful and obstinate anymore. Probably nobody would have believed this peaceful face belonged to one of the worst troublemakers Takeru had ever encountered in his life. Admittedly, he did not have that much experience with juvenile antics, but compared to Takeru himself … well. Maybe best not to compare at all.

Hastily Takeru turned back to the cupboard. Alright, so T-Shirts, T-Shirts, no Shodophone, a jacket, pants, another pair of—

The chains attached to said pair of pants made an awful racket when the whole thing slipped out of Takeru's hands and to the floor. And to make matters worse, Takeru had let out a yelp when the stupid thing had impacted on his toe. He had barely turned around when light shone up and he held up a hand to shield his eyes.

'Takeru? What are you doing in my room?' Chiaki stared at him, sleep still in his eyes and hair all mussed, a torch in his hand. 'Is there an attack?'

Takeru froze for the blink of an eye. Then he snapped back to himself, striding over to Chiaki and towering over him. 'Where is your Shodophone?' he ground out.

'My—' Chiaki's eyes narrowed. Obviously he was not sleepy enough not to realise something was up. Takeru gritted his teeth. 'That's none of your business.'

'Of course it is! What if there's an attack and you can't find your Shodophone because your room is such a mess?'

'My—what the hell? My room's not a mess!' Chiaki was half kneeling now, still blinding Takeru with the torch. 'And I know exactly where my Shodophone is!'

'Prove it!' Takeru could feel his shoulders tensing and his wound started to throb.

'Eeeh? Takeru, come on! It's the middle of the night! The Gedoushuu have never attacked at night before, so can you please check tomorrow morning whether or not I can find my Shodophone fast enough?'

'I doubt that since you mainly find it when you are using it for nonsense,' Takeru backfired and Chiaki lowered the torch. Takeru blinked a few times, giving himself time to adjust to the darkness, and looked at Chiaki. His eyes, visible now that Takeru wasn't blinded by the light anymore, had narrowed.

'Nonsense? So that's what you're calling it when I'm fighting?'

'I'm not talking about fighting, I'm talking about all of those messages you and Kotoha keep sending each other, and the pranks you're playing on people when they can't defend themselves!'

'What? Takeru—jeeeez, Takeru!' Chiaki rolled his eyes in exasperation as he sat up fully.

And the yukata fell away from his shoulders. Takeru stared at him, not sure whether to be embarrassed or not. He almost missed Chiaki's next words.

'It was just to make Kotoha relax! Why do you always have to put up such a big fuss about me making a little joke?'

Now Takeru did blush. Although he really was not quite sure whether or not that was due to Chiaki still being half-naked, or being accused of being a spoilsport.

'I am still your lord!' he insisted rather lamely, knowing full well it had been he himself who had told Chiaki—in front of everyone, no less—that he did not care about the whole lord-retainer thing. Even if that had been a while back, he had never gone back on those words.

Accordingly his blush deepened to shameful.

'I did put you on your seat, didn't I?' Chiaki pointed out, rather reasonably. 'Well. The kitten, anyway.' And then, grinning, 'There really was no room for the both of you on that seat, you know?'

This really was intolerable.

'Get properly dressed, for god's sake!' he snapped, grabbing Chiaki's yukata and pulling it close over his chest. 'You are such a child! Can't you even dress yourself?'

'Get your hands off me!' Chiaki immediately started wrestling him, pushing his hands away, or maybe trying to get a hold of them, it was not that easy to tell.

Takeru was equally determined not to be deterred. 'I am simply trying to dress you!' he growled, tugged at the cloth and cried out with pain. Tears shot into his eyes and Chiaki hurriedly let go off him.

'Sorry! I wasn't—'

Takeru bent over, one hand clasped to the wound in his chest.

'Hey. Takeru. Come on. Just lie down for a bit. I'll get you an ice-pack.'

Dimly aware of Chiaki's steps through the haze of pain, Takeru lay on the—now rumpled—bedclothes and stared up at the ceiling. Well. Now this had gone splendidly.

'Here you go.' Something cold was carefully lowered onto both his shoulder and his chest. Refusing to meet Chiaki's eyes, Takeru kept staring at the ceiling.

'Seriously, Takeru. What were you thinking? Not that I mind winning against you twice in one day, but that was plain stupid. You moved into my fist!'

Takeru closed his eyes, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that he had already lost their earlier catfight about the pictures.

'Oi! Takeru! Are you fainting on me or what?'

Chiaki's hands on his cheeks were, to his surprise, quite warm, and gentle, despite his apparent alarm.

'Alright, that's it. I'm getting Jii.'

Liquid—where did that come from?—welled up in Takeru's eye and slipped down his cheek. He had no idea why Chiaki had to catch sight of it despite getting up to fetch someone for help. He only noticed that suddenly the gentle hands were back on his cheeks, carefully wiping away the … the … it was not a tear.

'Do they really bother you that much?' Chiaki's voice asked, sounding completely different than before. Much more grown-up. Much more … Takeru was not going to go there. Definitely not. It was too much as it was. Without answering, he turned onto his good, left side, keeping the ice-pack pressed to his chest and his eyes closed.

Silence reigned.

He heard Chiaki get up. A second later the light was switched off and the door was opened. Takeru hurt. He had no idea why. He should be glad that Chiaki was, for once, following the rules of common courtesy and leaving him alone to deal with his problems by himself. But it was suddenly so hard to breathe. And his eyes were still watering. And his chest, hand and shoulder were all getting so incredibly cold it was making him shudder.

He could hear Chiaki's feet padding over the wooden floor outside of their rooms. Then the sound died.

Takeru bit his lip, desperate not to let any sound escape.

The feet were padding over the floor again. Back into the room. The door closed. The feed padded back to where he was lying. He heard the rustle of cloth, then something was spread out over him.

His own blanket.

'Sorry for going into your room. But, you know, you're lying on my blanket, and I have no idea how to get you off it.' Chiaki almost sounded as if he was cracking a joke, voice light and easy. 'Anyway, I hope you're not going to mind. Although really, I don't think you're entitled to, considering you're blocking my bed, not the other way around.'

Takeru didn't even have the time to wonder what Chiaki was talking about when he had already slipped under the blanket with him.

The cold was still making him shudder. There was a sigh from behind his back, and suddenly a smaller body pressed against his. Takeru went rigid with shock.

'I'm not the world's best psychologist, that honour definitely goes to Nee-san, but Takeru, you are acting weird. What the hell is the matter?'

Chiaki managed to sound exasperated, annoyed and gentle at the same time. Takeru marvelled at it without answering.

'Alright. Since you're not willing to talk to me, could you at least nod or shake your head when I ask you something? 'Cause, you know, otherwise this is going to be difficult.'

Takeru acquiesced. Chiaki sighed, his chest moving against Takeru's back. 'Great. We're communicating.'

A small pause while Chiaki appeared to be collecting his thoughts.

'So I'm guessing you came in here to find my Shodophone and delete the pictures, right?'

Takeru nodded.

'And you're still pissed because I took them.'

Again Takeru nodded, though a bit more hesitant.

'Are you also still pissed that I did it in the first place?' Chiaki sounded incredulous. Takeru hesitated.

Then he slowly shook his head. Chiaki's body relaxed a fraction. 'Well, that's a step in the right direction, at least,' he murmured, wrapping an arm around Takeru who had to bite down on his lip, hard, to keep himself from moving in the grasp, as innocent and probably unconscious as the gesture was. Truth be told, no one had been this close to him in at least eight years. No one had held him during all that time. Not even Jii, for all his care and concern for Takeru.

Not that Takeru would have been likely to accept the comfort Jii was offering, on a regular basis … nothing above what words could give him, anyway …

And now it was Chiaki, of all people, who had to witness his weakness. Who had to come close, close enough to hug Takeru, actually hug him, something he was never going to hear the end of …

Although, now that the thought crossed his mind … why was Chiaki not making fun of him? He should be, should he not? This was Chiaki, after all! The guy who only stayed here because he wanted to surpass Takeru, and lost no opportunity to make fun of him as today had proven once more.

'So I'm guessing now that you've failed, you'll come up with something to make me delete them.'

Takeru startled slightly. Chiaki's voice sounded flat. He tried to remember what they had been … "talking" about.

Right. The pictures. Of himself. With whiskers Chiaki had painted on his face while he had been unable to defend himself.

A strangled sound escaped his throat. Takeru himself would not have been able to tell what it was. Maybe it was a cry, maybe a desperate chuckle, but whatever it was, it caused his eyes to overflow again, and it wouldn't stop no matter how Takeru tried to quell it.

Chiaki's arm tightened around his waist, and he held him close until both tears and sounds had subsided.

Then Chiaki got up a bit, loomed over Takeru for a moment, and rolled him on his back. One hand took the ice-pack from him. The other pushed strands of hair from Takeru's face and wiped away the remnants of his recent little breakdown.

He did not say a word. It should have bothered Takeru. Chiaki never shut up. At least not of his own accord. You had to make him.

But now he was as silent as Takeru himself, and he in turn had no clue what his teammate might be up to.

'Takeru? I'll do it.'

Takeru's eyes snapped wide open. He saw Chiaki's face looming above him, just so visible in the darkness of the room.

'I'll delete them,' Chiaki repeated quietly, 'if you let me kiss you. Once.'

Takeru's heart stopped and stuttered in his chest. Chiaki suddenly seemed to realise what he had said, seemed to realise as well that he was still towering over Takeru—a hurt Takeru, no less—with his yukata still open and his chest bared, and sat up so hurriedly he stole the blanket in the process.

Cool air rushed in and brought Takeru back to his senses. He blinked a few times, unable to quite believe this had really happened.

Then he sat up as well.

Chiaki was not looking at him. He was gnawing his lip, instead, arms wrapped around his knees so his chest was hidden, even though the yukata remained open.

Takeru looked at him until Chiaki finally met his eyes, defiantly. 'Yeah, I shouldn't have said that, I know. It was bad taste. I won't do it again. As for the pictures, if you want to really destroy them, you'll have to ask Kotoha to delete them as well. I sent them to her.'

'Chiaki.' Takeru heard his voice shake, and cleared his throat, fumbled for words. Everything seemed to reel in his head. He was not even sure whether or not the room itself might be reeling. And there were a thousand things he could have said. Even more he probably should have said. Something to save his face, in any case. Something—anything—

He came up blank, and heard himself whisper 'What?' instead.

Chiaki stared at him. Takeru looked at the floor and realised he still had tears left. Quickly he put a hand to his eyes and wiped them away impatiently.

A hand stilled his movements. Chiaki's voice said 'Don't'.

Then Chiaki was doing the job for him, and Takeru, though he lacked experience in that area, could not help but notice that his cheeks were being caressed more than they were being cleaned.

'I'm sorry,' Chiaki said quietly. 'For upsetting you even more. I didn't mean to.'

'I'm not upset!'

They both stopped breathing at his outburst. Every second now someone would come in, would check on them, would …

Nothing happened. Takeru drew a deep breath, steadied himself and repeated, more calmly this time, 'I am not upset.'

Chiaki did not reply. He was still sitting in front of him, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, yukata still open. Irritated, Takeru directed his gaze elsewhere.

Chiaki's eyes were the wrong choice.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

'I'm not Nee-san, Takeru. I'm not going to make you talk about it if you don't want to. But I am also not going to let you walk out of here like this,' Chiaki said finally.

Takeru felt anger well up. 'Why would I not?' he replied, rather more forcefully than he had intended to. 'You were the one who just tried to blackmail me into kissing him!'

Chiaki took a breath, but Takeru forestalled him. 'Why?'

He did not realise himself how desperate his voice sounded before Chiaki looked at him again, his gaze so heartbreakingly—heartbreakingly—

'Why would I not want to kiss you, Takeru?'

Once more Takeru came up blank. Chiaki reached out, and carefully put a hand to his wound. 'Kotoha isn't the only one I want to make laugh, Takeru. I thought you were having at least a little fun as well, earlier.'

'You were making fun of me.' Takeru tried to get the words out without any emotion, and failed spectacularly. Chiaki sighed, and withdrew.

'Yeah, I was. I thought you'd understand.'

'Do you have any idea what it was like, in that cat?' Somehow it burst forth. Takeru had no idea why. 'Not being able to move, and see your body being dragged and carried around like this? That Ayakashi—'

He stopped, and knew that same moment Chiaki had already heard to much. Curse it.

His retainer, vassal, or whatever Chiaki was, looked at him. Long and hard, in a way nobody had ever looked at Takeru before.

He tried to calm his breath, tried to fight back the horror of that moment—that first moment of realising he could not move, he really was about to die—, and failed.

What had saved his life, he knew very well, was Chiaki's instinct. Nothing else. If Chiaki had not reacted, had not prevented the Ayakashi from slashing the kitten, he would have been dead.

There was big difference between going into battle knowing one might die, and being absolutely, utterly helpless to prevent it. Even the fight with Juuzou had not terrified him as much.

'Do you trust me?'

Looking up, he met Chiaki's eyes again. Still so serious, without his usual smirk or even a smile.

'I did save your life today, you know. Twice. Well. Kotoha helped, the second time. But still.'

Takeru looked away. 'I know,' he murmured, suddenly ashamed of himself. He had not yet thanked him. Either of them. 'Thank you.'

Chiaki made a little noise. 'You're welcome. So, does your gratitude extend towards staying here tonight, or is that out?'

Takeru's head snapped back, all hackles raised. 'Stop blackmailing me!' he spat, anger replacing every feeling in him. Chiaki also raised his voice.

'Well then tell me how I'm going to make you stay here without blackmailing you! 'Cause I, for one, I don't see any other way!'

'Why would you make me stay here at all? I'm not going to tell you the secret of how you can finally best me in battle!'

'How stupid are you, Takeru? This is not about beating you!'

'What is it about then?'

Chiaki was so close he could feel his breath on his face. Faintly pepperminty. Why would he notice?

'Because I don't want you to be alone tonight, you stupid arse!'

Silence.

'You do not want me to be alone tonight?' Takeru knew he sounded incredulous. But then, who would not?

Chiaki took a deep breath, obviously to calm himself as well, and looked at the ceiling for a moment, as if asking some higher power for patience. 'Takeru, even I can see you're completely out of it. You broke into my room in the middle of the night, because of some stupid pictures no one but you thinks are a problem. When I woke up, you started fighting with me about my stupid yukata. Like anyone cares.' He paused for a second, then looked at Takeru again, hard.

'And then you cried. You cried in front of me. Takeru, just how dumb do you think I am? Do you truly think I can just let that go? Do you truly think I could just let you go back to your room when you're so obviously—um—'

There he stopped talking. Takeru was infinitely grateful. He did not even care if Chiaki didn't want to say it because it was too embarrassing or because he simply couldn't find a word.

Looking to the side, feeling his cheeks heating up and something tugging at his eyes again, he said, 'I don't know.'

'You don't know?'

He could not explain. How was he supposed to explain that yes, he had actually thought Chiaki was going to walk out and leave him alone? Kotoha and Mako, even Ryuunosuke, and of course Genta, he would have expected all of them to stay in order to find out what was the matter.

Chiaki? No.

'Well. Great, I guess. You know I'm not a cold, heartless bastard, right?'

Takeru nodded, his cheeks heating up even more. Of course he knew. It was just that—that—

Chiaki simply knew no boundaries. When the others—except Genta, of course—would keep respectful distance, Chiaki would come close. Would attempt to jump on his back. Would carelessly lean all over him to reach something on his other side. Would touch him without even noticing how Takeru would stiffen in shock.

And he would make fun of him. Of him. Takeru. Of the person he was supposed to be respecting more than anyone else. How could someone look up to someone—and it was plain obvious for everyone that Chiaki did, why else would he want to surpass him?—and still treat that person like, well, anyone else? Takeru simply did not understand! None of the others was like this! Not even Mako! Not to the same extent, anyway …

In all honesty, maybe he had simply hoped that Chiaki would leave him alone, rather than expected it. Because yes, he knew that there was a caring heart underneath all that brash and wilful behaviour. He just had no idea how to deal with it when the care was suddenly directed at him.

'Okay. Since we agree that I'm not a heartless bastard, and since you are in my room, will you let me take care of you tonight?'

Chiaki sounded annoyed. And still, there was something in his voice, his expression, his whole body language …

Takeru took a deep breath and a good look at his resident personal mystery. It was hard. It was so hard, not just getting up and walking out, and forgetting everything that had transpired here tonight. Return to the way they were.

 _Why would I not want to kiss you?_

He should be running scared, Takeru knew. He should get out. Not give Chiaki the chance to see more of his weakness.

'Are we still going to be the same tomorrow?'

His voice was barely above a whisper. The corner of Chiaki's mouth twitched upwards. 'You mean, am I still going to make fun of you tomorrow, and tell you that you suck, and that I'm going to beat you one day?'

Takeru forced himself to nod. The other corner twitched as well. 'Bet your money on it, tono-sama.'

It took some effort. But Takeru sank down again, lay back on the mattress, waited until Chiaki had spread the blanket over the both of them, and finally turned onto his left side once more, his back to Chiaki.

The blanket rustled undecidedly for a moment. Takeru closed his eyes, tried to ignore the thumping in his chest, and moved himself backwards. Just one little bit closer to Chiaki.

Almost immediately an arm snaked around his waist, and he was pulled closer to the smaller, lithe body.

This time, Takeru did not stiffen in shock. Instead he let himself relax into the embrace, let Chiaki's breath wash over his neck, let the warmth soak through his own yukata.

Succeeded even in ignoring that he had never managed to properly fasten Chiaki's.

And fell asleep to the steady heartbeat and rising chest cradling him.

* * *

As always, warm thanks to my beta for helping to give birth to this work, and I do appreciate feedback of whatever kind immensely.


	2. Black ink

It's been two weeks, and still Takeru cannot make up his mind about that night in Chiaki's room. Or about Chiaki. In fact, the more he tries to make sense of either, the more he finds himself pondering Chiaki himself.

Unlike black ink, thoughts cannot easily be washed off, only pushed to the side.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 2: Black ink_**

'Come on, Takeru, one more round!'

Takeru ignored Chiaki leaning in the bathroom door and continued wiping his face clean.

He really had no clue how Chiaki and Mako had both managed to get out of this game without one single black stroke on their faces.

On the other hand, those two definitely were the best strategists in their group. As little as he liked to admit it.

'Takeruuu!'

'Don't you have another round of training waiting for you?' he asked, looking at Chiaki through the mirror. Of course he was holding his Shodophone, and Takeru would have bet anything that there were at least two hundred more pictures of "neko-tono", as Chiaki had taken to calling him, on it. When he wasn't calling him "tono-sama" instead, without capital T and the proper respect with which the title was supposed to be spoken. How did someone make a letter sound small? It was a mystery.

The greater mystery, though, was that Chiaki was indeed making true on his promise from that night. He called Takeru "neko-tono" without ever making any allusion at all to the night after this nickname had been invented. The night Takeru had spent in Chiaki's room, on Chiaki's futon, until the early morning light had awakened him and he had crept back to his room.

Pushing away the remembrance of an arm wrapped around his waist, a head buried in the crook of his shoulder and neck, Takeru intensified his stare. 'Well? Do you?'

Chiaki replied by shrugging and grinning, and for a moment Takeru was not sure whether he was replying to the question or to Takeru's unspoken thoughts. He sighed and turned to Chiaki. 'Just because you won doesn't mean you can skip training,' he said, trying to sound commanding and in control of the situation, his thoughts, and Chiaki.

Chiaki laughed. Yes, that was pretty much what Takeru had expected. Why did he even try, still?

Takeru knew the answer, even though he tried not to think of it. As little as he wanted retainers, as little as he wished to put anyone in danger, he did need them, their strength. And he did trust them. But if he didn't keep a cool head, if he didn't keep in control … They trusted him to lead them in battle. Takeru had to be able to command them. No matter how much he despised it at times.

Chiaki's reticence had made it more difficult than he had ever expected.

Chiaki made everything more complicated.

 _Click._

Takeru startled, then wrinkled his brow as he realised Chiaki had caught him unaware once more. Before he could voice his consternation, though, Chiaki put the Shodophone away and strolled off, casually waving and leaving Takeru to wonder once more at him. Why was it that any kind of disciplinary measure had no effect on him whatsoever, but playing a game of cards would make him willing to face Jii and evening training?

Takeru himself had told Jii that Chiaki was not him, true. That didn't mean he had had, at the time, any idea how to better deal with their resident juvenile delinquent. If he had gotten Mako's intelligence right, Chiaki's father had even admitted to Chiaki regularly skipping school!

Considering that, it was probably not that surprising Jii's measures had not shown any effect. By the time Chiaki joined the Shinkengers, he must have been pretty used to all kinds of punishment.

Heaving a deep sigh, Takeru finished cleaning his face by splashing some water on it, then went back to the tatami room. He stopped behind the door leading out into the training yard to avoid being seen himself. From there he watched Chiaki go through his routines. Jii was perched nearby, fixing him with his eyes to make sure Chiaki wouldn't run off.

Takeru took a moment to observe, noting almost absent-mindedly that the moves were much more fluent than they used to be. Chiaki would probably never be the kind of fighter Takeru himself, or Ryuunosuke, or even Kotoha were. But there was a certain something in his movements, an element of surprise, that could and had saved his life in battle many times. Just as in daily life, Chiaki did not simply follow routine. He transformed it, made it into something wholly and completely his own.

One day, he was going to pose serious competition to Takeru.

What was the matter with him lately? Takeru shook his head at himself. Whenever he had a quiet minute, he found himself pondering Chiaki. Chiaki's actions, Chiaki's behaviour, Chiaki's past of which he knew next to nothing, and should have liked to know more. Only to be able to understand him.

Takeru sighed again. Time to do something else. Keep his mind occupied.

Turning himself away almost forcefully, he meandered into the tatami room once more. He found Mako buried in a book with Kotoha at her side, earnestly studying the page Mako was just reading. The sight immediately brightened his mood. Takeru sat down on his seat and found his own book. He had stopped wondering how Mako could not mind Kotoha reading over her shoulder. Obviously this arrangement was working fine for both of them. So there was no point in pointing out that it would probably be better to read the book one by one instead of together.

Ryuunosuke was probably training for kabuki. Genta had his usual evening business.

And they had defeated Azemidoro and saved the hostages.

Takeru allowed himself to relax and even smile a little. Best of all was, though, that the black ink was gone from his face again.


	3. Yukata

Properly fastening a yukata, as Takeru has recently discovered, is a difficult task not everyone is up to. Some people are simply less qualified for it than others. Takeru is qualified. Chiaki … not so much.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 3: Yukata_**

'Takeru!'

Takeru made no reply to Chiaki's surprised exclamation. Instead he clung to the bathroom door handle as if it was going to help him escape from this situation.

Why had Chiaki not locked the door?

Judging by Chiaki's half-shocked, half-surprised look, maybe he had forgotten to. Maybe he had thought the door had been locked, and—and—

Takeru's gaze drifted to the floor, embarrassed and unable to do something about it.

His eyes caught the open yukata, the belt that was in Chiaki's hands.

Two steps brought him closer to Chiaki whose eyes widened. Without a word, Takeru snatched the belt out of his hands, deftly closed the yukata over his naked chest, did his best to ignore the little black piece of clothing, um, downstairs, and wrapped the belt properly around Chiaki's waist. In a way that would keep the yukata closed until tomorrow morning, even if Chiaki should toss and turn in his sleep.

Almost jumping back after having finished his task, he turned and left the bathroom in a hurry, Chiaki's eyes boring into his back. But there was no time to explain. Takeru could not explain. His heart was beating wildly in his throat, he could barely swallow around it, and his stomach appeared to have tied itself in a knot.

Closing his door behind himself, he leant back against it and tried to calm his racing heartbeat.

It was just Chiaki. And this stupid yukata was just a stupid yukata, after all. One that Chiaki himself would never have closed properly. Takeru had first-hand proof of that.

Chiaki's hair had been wet. He had smelled of the soap in the bathroom, the soap that actually was Takeru's.

Did Chiaki always use his soap? He had his own!

Takeru opened his eyes again and listened to the feet padding into the room next door.

Chiaki walked back and forth a few times, probably putting stuff away. Takeru had grown used to those sounds in the past weeks and months.

The light was switched of. The sounds ceased.

Slowly Takeru pushed off the door, slid it open and tip-toed to the bathroom. Casting one glance around, he realised Chiaki had indeed used his soap.

Takeru stared at himself in the mirror and saw to his surprise that he was smiling slightly. So Chiaki was using his soap? Intruding once more on Takeru's grounds?

For some strange reason, it calmed Takeru more than that it angered him. Was he so used already to Chiaki breaching his borders?

Did Chiaki still breach his borders?

Pondering the thought while he brushed his teeth, Takeru finally reached a conclusion. Yes, Chiaki did. Each and every day.

Takeru was simply less bothered by it than he had been before. Chiaki's presence, Chiaki's closeness were not as scary as they used to be. His jokes not as dangerous.

In truth, Takeru did not mind anymore. He had probably not minded ever since he spent that one night in Chiaki's room.

Back in his room he lay on his left side, closing his eyes. Chiaki's surprised face appeared in his mind. Takeru found himself smiling slightly at the image. His back felt warm, and comfortably protected.

Sleep, which had taken its time to come to him ever since his vassals had joined him, caught him easily this night.


End file.
